


Apply Pressure

by blcwriter



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Gen, Intersectionality, The fandom's Good Marine Discourse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 15:54:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26680216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blcwriter/pseuds/blcwriter
Summary: A take on Dizzy's thought process after Nile dies, and a reaction to some of the fandom's Good Marine discourse.
Relationships: Nile Freeman & Dizzy, Nile Freeman & Jay
Comments: 9
Kudos: 38





	Apply Pressure

She does what she’s told from her training and tries to put pressure on the wound-- except no one tells you what to do when it’s someone’s throat slashed open and they’re choking because they can’t breathe. What are you supposed to do? Choke them so they stop choking? How do you apply pressure to a wound like that? 

They train you so it’s a habit-- call for medic, call for backup, make sure someone else sees the same thing you do. They tell you it’s because group observations help with group learning after, but really-- it’s plausible deniability, that and making sure no one goes down alone if there’s some civvy tribunal later. 

The debriefing is delayed getting started, and then it’s so fucking long, and it keeps going around and around on the questions and is fucking … pointless. Nile’s dead, and she doesn’t understand why they keep asking her what happened. 

“No, she never seemed like she was hiding something.” (It’s Nile. They didn’t call her Miss Squeaky Clean for nothing.)

“She’d go off and listen to her music, but we all did." (Didn’t they fucking train us at basic that “solitude and meditation are a part of mental self-care?”)

“No, we all shared playlists.” (Seriously? If this turns into some Tipper Gore shit because they don’t want them listening to Frank fucking Ocean and Tupac?)

“No, she was in my line of sight for the entire encounter out in the courtyard.” (Seriously? There were like, eight civilians plus the squad and the translator to verify.)

“She took point on entry like she always does, I was right behind her. She was never out of my sight.” (The knife on the combatant, though-- she didn’t see that until after. Nile either.)

“She engaged the villagers to encourage trust as per our trainings. Yeah, like I said, she gave a kid candy.” (What, are they going to say she shouldn’t have done what they trained them to do?)

Finally, she loses her temper.

“Look, I don’t know what the fuck is going on here, but she fucking died, and you know what? You don’t train us what to do when someone’s throat is cut open. How much pressure do you apply when someone is already choking? Maybe you should fucking revamp your field first aid if you want to know why she fucking died. Or provide neck guards, like, you know, hockey.” At least sports organizations anticipate neck injuries being a thing. 

The lieutenant doesn’t look surprised by her outburst, and the female nurse who’s there as a witness to the debrief doesn’t bat an eyelash. She’s never seen the nurse before, but then again, Dizzy tries to steer clear of the med tent except when only absolutely necessary.

She sucks in a breath through her nose and clamps her mouth shut, then glares at them in silence, wondering where the debrief’s going now. 

“The private doesn’t know anything more,” the nurse says. Her voice is flat and she doesn’t bother looking at Dizzy while she says it. 

“Dismissed. Report to the chaplain or counseling tomorrow. Don’t skip it,” the lieutenant warns her. Not a word about her cussing.

Dizzy’ll take it. She stands, mumbles off a salute, and heads back to her tent, making sure to walk slow and steady because she’s not going to cry or yell around these yahoos who weren’t there and don’t know. Their division has been too lucky ‘til now, and now Nile’s fucking dead.

\--

“Nile’s not dead,” says Jay, the minute she walks in the tent.

Dizzy makes her way to her own bunk. Sits. Stares at Jay because-- what?

Jay keeps talking. “There was a bunch of yelling at the med tent, and I snuck over to find out what’s up. They were saying she was alive, and she’d healed.” She shakes her head. 

“Did you go in? Did you see her?” 

Jay shakes her head again. “No, a bunch of contractors ran in, everyone was yelling at each other, but you know, quiet. But I definitely heard someone say ‘How the fuck is she alive?’” 

“That’s, what, some fucking Captain America shit.” 

Just. What the fuck? 

“I don’t believe it,” she decides. This is a military occupation, not a sci-fi movie. Although it explains the weird debrief. “When was this?” 

Jay scrunches up her face, thinking. “Not long after you went off for debrief.”

Right. And probably when the female nurse came in, 15 minutes late, while she and the lieutenant stared at each other and waited for the female witness to show up. She knew Nile was alive and sat there saying nothing and staring at Dizzy like what? Like what-- like Dizzy knew something? Or like Dizzy should know something? Or like… 

“That. Just.”

“Yeah,” Jay agrees. After a long pause, she says, “they want us to pack up her stuff.” 

Dizzy’s skin is doing that thing where it shrinks and is cold and her throat tightens and she’s three seconds from a full blown panic attack. She reaches into her trunk, pops one of the two Klonopin she’s allowed to have on her and take before having to report to the med tent, and just breathes with her eyes closed. 

“They’re going to what. Make her a guinea pig at Landestuhl?”

The expression on Jay’s face is pretty much what Dizzy’s thinking.

Who are they going to tell, and who'd believe them, anyway? There's no one on base who’d be able to do shit about it, and outside their squad, no one who’s going to be semper fucking fidelis for a black girl they don’t know. It's not like they can just call Amnesty International, or, like, send Human Rights Watch an email-- even if it got through the censors (which it wouldn't), no one would fucking believe them. Which is, what, Jay and Dizzy steal a vehicle, steal Nile, and then set off for … fucking where with what fucking translator and which fucking maps and what fucking weapons, before they-- yeah. Before they get picked up and brought back and debriefed and then sent off to military prison, not for being AWOL but for something that-- if it’s true-- means whatever happens to them is going to make Abu Graihb look tame.

Jay nods, looking sick. Dizzy feels it, too, but she the longer she sits and the more the klonopin kicks in, she realizes they’re stuck. There's nothing they can do for Nile that will help her, and if even they try, they're not going to succeed and it'll make it worse on all of them, not to mention their families. Well. It'll be bad for Nile, no matter what.

[“I need this citizenship,”](https://www.uscis.gov/military/naturalization-through-military-service) she decides. She does. _Fuck._ She’s already sending her pay back to a family friend who’s naturalized, and hoping the messages she gets back from her brother are actually from him and not some scam Asif's running because they've been picked up by ICE and deported, asylum status notwithstanding. 

She leans over to the trashcan and pukes. Wipes her mouth. Drinks some water to get the bitter taste out of her mouth.

Jay stands up and goes to Nile’s bunk and pulls out her pack. She doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t tell Dizzy she’s wrong, either. 

Hands shaking, Dizzy opens Nile’s locker. Nile, the neat freak, already has stuff spit-polish tidy. All Dizzy has to do is be careful and not make things messier than they already are. 

Jay holds the pack open. Dizzy gets to work.

**Author's Note:**

> [How to treat a neck wound with severed blood vessels.](https://firstaidsaskatoon.ca/emergency-care-severed-neck-blood-vessels/)
> 
> Liberty taken with whether the US military would allow someone with an active anxiety disorder in need of medication to remain serving.


End file.
